Snapshots of their Sister
by Gamer-Alexis
Summary: The story of Connor and Murphy's little sister, Sarah. Born three years after them, and how she changed their lives in Ireland and in Boston alike. AU, OC, no slash, spoilers for both movies
1. Chapter 1

Age 3:

Murphy looked down at the wriggling infant in Ma's arms. Ma said that the tiny baby was their little sister. She didn't look like much fun if Murphy was honest. She wasn't the length of a cricket bat and all pink and squishy. What fun is a little sister if she couldn't do anything?

"What's she do?" Connor asked, on the same brainwave as Murphy.

"She doesn' 'do' anythin'," Ma said, her voice slightly scolding. "Jus' you wait until she grows up. Then you'll have a sweet little sister. You'll see."

Murphy glanced at his twin, looking at him skeptically. There was no way this little thing of skin would be any fun.

Almost on cue, the little baby girl opened her eyes and started to wail.

No fun at all.

Age 7:

Sarah had just begun to walk. More like stumble around, but she didn't know any better. Connor and Murphy were starting school today, and had spent as much time with her as they could before, and even now, with only a morning to spare, they tried to spend the entire morning in her company.

It had been four years since Sarah was brought home and Ma was right; once she started to smile and laugh, the boys couldn't leave her alone. They wanted to hold her and feed her and make her laugh. At four years of age, Sarah had deep brown eyes and short tufts of curly hair. She loved to laugh and grab everything she could. The twins loved her with all their hearts.

"Patty cake!" she squealed, running towards Connor.

She tripped over a rug and sprawled on the floor. She hopped back up and ran for Connor anyway, hands still out to play patty cake and a bruise forming on her forehead.

"You know," Murphy said, "we got school soon."

"I know," Connor snapped, playing with Sarah anyway.

"You shouldn't be playing with her," Murphy said.

"Are you gonna tell on me?"

"Maybe I will!"

"Boys!" Ma shouted, stopping their argument. "School!"

The three of them ran down to the kitchen, Sarah stuttering on the last step. The boys grabbed their bags and lunches and ran for the door, kissing Ma on the cheek. Sarah followed them outside and was almost to the gate before the twins noticed.

"No, Sarah," Connor pushed her away. "You gotta stay here."

"Wanna go!" Sarah pouted.

"No, stay," Murphy said. "You need to stay."

"No! Won't!" Sarah screwed up her face as her eyes filled with tears. "Wanna go! I go wiff Conn and Murph!"

"No, you stay here," the twins pushed her towards the house again.

She screamed as loud as she could, her face red and eyes bright, and ran back to the house, barreling into Ma's legs.

"Feel awful?" Connor asked.

"Yeah," Murphy said. "Feel horrible."

For four years, they had tried to make their sister the happiest little child they could. Now, because of education, they had to do something they never wanted, which was to make her cry.

Age 15:

Connor swore that Sarah grew up when he and Murphy weren't looking. She got over the separation anxiety, helped out by starting school herself in a few short years. They didn't see each other much, being at different schools during most of the day. While the boys were worried about the changes happening in their bodies, they completely failed to notice the change happening to Sarah. All of the sudden, she had a figure and a nice one at that. If she gave the effort, she would be an absolutely stunning woman.

Part of Connor wanted Sarah to be as beautiful as she could. He wanted his sister to be gorgeous and watch her be as beautiful as she could. But the other part of him, the older brother part, wanted Sarah to be plain and boring. He didn't want her to gather the attention of all the boys in Ireland. Murphy agreed.

"She's way too pretty," Murphy said.

"No shit," Connor watched as Sarah gathered apples. It was mid-autumn and the three of them were gathered in sweaters and scarves gathering apples from the neighbor's yard. "She was bound to be, with us as her brothers."

"Damn straight," Murphy nodded. "It's her hair really. It can' be that fuckin' big or that fuckin' color. It's impossible."

"No shit!" Connor exclaimed.

Sarah turned then, and waved, a basket on her hip. Her hair, once awkward tufts of brown curls, was now waist length and huge. It completely surrounded her, glowing almost, in the weak sunlight.

"Fuckin' impossible."

Age 20:

The last time Murphy felt this angry, he was trying to beat 10 teenage boys for taking a swing at his brother when they were eleven. It wasn't even really a good reason for a fight, seeing as the teenagers were just joking around and wouldn't really hurt him or Connor. It's been nine years since he's felt that kind of anger.

But it was back in full swing, and this time Connor felt the anger too. Some 17 year-old bastard decided to fuck Sarah. Their little sister, not even a woman yet. Murphy was going to tear that boy limb from limb. He paced back and forth in their shared bedroom, muttering curses under his breath.

"Calm down," Connor said, placing a hand on Murphy's arm.

"No, you fuckin' calm down!" Murphy shouted. "That sonuvabitch took our sister! We can' let this go!"

"We're not gonna," Connor said. "Let's just be reasonable."

"To hell with reason!" Murphy exclaimed. "This is about honor! This is about our sister not gettin' some sorta reputation as a town slut!"

Their door slammed open. Sarah stood in the frame, anger in her face and her arms crossed. She tapped her foot and glared at both her brothers.

"My honor?" she guessed, her hair crackling.

"It's not what it sounds like," Murphy said quickly.

"Really?" Sarah took a step forward.

"Listen here, leprechaun," Connor stood up, "it really isn' what it sounds like."

"No, you listen," Sarah growled, "because it sounds like you two are tryin' ta protect my fuckin' 'honor' by beatin' up that poor boy, who I seduced by the way, but hey, I might be fuckin' wrong."

"You seduced him?" the twins gaped at her.

"O' course I did," Sarah brushed it away. "You didn' think I was going to stay a virgin, did ya? Not after you boys got laid. Didn' ya think I was gonna try my hardest to find some poor sap to fuck?"

"How hard did ya try?" Connor asked.

"Not very," Sarah shrugged. "I just thought I should wait it out a bit 'til I was older and more certain."

"Shut up, Connor!" Murphy snapped. "That's not the fuckin' point!"

"I don't see the problem," Sarah said. "You two are overreactin'."

"Are not!"

"Are too," Sarah said, turning around and slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, the twins looked at each other.

"She seduced him?" Connor hissed.

"O' course she did," Murphy sighed in defeat, falling backwards on his bed. "That's what she gets for bein' so fuckin' beautiful."

"It took us months ta get laid, and she gets it all willy-nilly!"

"This isn' a competition! It's about Sarah and her honor!"

"Oh, shut up."

"You shut up!"

Age 21:

Sarah hummed in her seat. Connor could feel her shivering in anticipation from where their arms were touching. Her hands clenched the armrests until her knuckles were white.

"_Now landing in Boston_."

"Finally!" Sarah exclaimed. "America!"

They took their first steps in America, duffle bags in hand. Their dreams have finally come true. They were in the good old US of A. Finally.

"We made it," Murphy sighed.

"Yeah, listen," Connor said, "Cousin Patrick got us a loft. Said he'd meet us at a bar called McGinty's and show us around."

"Bit early for a drink though," Murphy commented.

"Then let's have a look around ourselves," Sarah grinned.

"Not so fast, little leprechaun," Connor grabbed her arm.

"I just got outta school and I'm in America with my brothers. Most girls my age would kill ta be here. I am going ta enjoy every minute I can."

"We got $300 ta live off 'til we get a job. Don' start spendin' money we don' got."

"I said ta have a look," Sarah pulled her arm free, "not buy the whole fuckin' city. Why, ya scared?"

"No!"

Sarah grinned widely and Connor knew he'd been beat.

"Fine. Let's have a look around."

Connor hoisted his bag up and led the way into the city.

Age 24:

When Sarah turned 21, she and Rocco went out clubbing, leaving the twins behind in their drafty little flat.

"If this keeps up, Rocco will be Sarah's new favorite person," Murphy threw a can of beer to Connor.

"I think Poppa Joe still wants ta recruit her," Connor cracked open the can. "Rocco made it pretty clear that she was just his type. Pretty and fiery."

"Italian mafia," Murphy laughed. "They're crazy if they think they can get a hold o' Sarah."

"No shit," Connor agreed. "I can' believe they're still up ta that."

"Maybe they won' let her go cuz she's just so damn gorgeous," Murphy suggested.

"They should know better anyway," Connor took a drink. "If anyone dares lay a hand on her we'll kill them."

"Maybe not kill," Murphy shrugged. "Just knock him around a bit."

"No, kill him," Connor countered. "Sarah's tough enough to knock around anyone who gets a bit too friendly."

"Unless she's bitten off more than she can chew," Murphy reminded Connor.

They ended up calling it an early night, worries about Sarah keeping them from having a good time on this rare night alone. They tossed and turned in their bed before falling into an uneasy sleep just after two in the morning with no sign of Sarah or Rocco.

When they woke up the next morning, Sarah was face down in her bed, her hair flying in every direction and snoring loudly. She was in a tank top and her underwear and every bit of exposed skin was covered in mottled bruises.

"What the fuck?!" Connor shouted, waking up both Sarah and Murphy.

"Shut up," Sarah mumbled through her pillow. "Hangover."

"What the fuck did ya do?" Murphy hissed, moving to the bed and flipping Sarah onto her back only to see more bruises.

"Got inta a fight," Sarah whispered, eyes shut against the light of the sun coming through the window. Connor knelt on her other side. Sarah gave a soft grin. "Ya should see the other guys."

"Guys?!" Connor repeated, his voice raising. "You mean that there was more than one?"

"Shush!" Sarah rubbed her temples. "O' course there was more than one. D'ya really think that if I knocked out one guy, his buddies were just gonna stand there?"

"Where the fuck was Rocco?"

"Unconscious. That's why I hit them."

"But you're okay?"

"Other than being sore and hungover and fuckin' interrogated by my brothers, I'm just peachy."

Age 30:

Ireland had been just like it was when they left; rolling green hills and a huge cloud cover. They'd been hiding for three years and despite how close they had been for their entire lives, certain questionable qualities started creeping up.

Connor's protective streak got higher and higher. He was protective already, but now he wouldn't let Sarah or Murphy out of his sight for more than five minutes. He nearly refused to let Sarah learn to ride a horse and she wasn't allowed to look after the seep on her own.

Murphy got angry. His temper was wicked short and he shouted all the time about every little thing. He was punching Connor every chance he got, shouted abuse to Da whenever things got too quiet and wouldn't let Sarah come anywhere near him.

Sarah fell down into silence. She would often wander off on her own, not coming back for a day or two, and freaking Connor to death. Just her, her horse, and a daypack, and the wild plains of Ireland. She stopped talking or giving any emotion.

They were all grieving, all aching, and they were taking it out on each other. They didn't talk about it with each other or with Da. It wasn't in their nature to talk about something as trivial as feelings.

Until Sarah left in the dead of winter and didn't come back for three days. It wasn't uncommon for her to be gone that long, but she was never out in a blizzard. Da, wrapped up as tight as he could, went out to find her.

The twins paced in their little house, wringing their hands and avoiding each other's gaze. Their little sister was lost in a snowstorm for nearly 72 hours. She could be dead for all they knew. And they blamed themselves for it.

"I shouldn' have been so protective," Connor said. "She never liked havin' a leash and I gave her a tight one."

"It was my fault," Murphy said. "I was just yellin' at her all the time. No wonder she left. Tryin' ta get away from me."

"Naw," Connor shook his head. "Face it, brother. We fucked this up big time. If she dies… we got no one but us ta blame."

"She won' die," Murphy said firmly. "She's stronger than that."

Da burst through the door at that moment, Sarah held limp in his arms. Her skin was pale and had a blue tinge. The boys moved into action instantly. Murphy grabbed every blanket they owned and Connor stoked the fire into a blaze.

They set her by the fireplace and stripped off all her clothes. Connor and Murphy stripped down as well and put their arms around Sarah, holding her close, while Da wrapped the three of them up in blankets.

"Lucky I found her," Da said, touching her pale face. "She was in the middle o' nowhere, barely anythin' to block the wind or snow. Her horse kept her alive."

"So she is alive?" Murphy asked.

"Yeah, she's breathin'," Connor pointed out.

"Keep her warm, boys," Da said gently. "I'm gettin' more wood."

They sat like that for a while, Sarah shivering against the boys. Her body was warming up slowly, the blue leaving her lips. The twins curled around her protectively and inched closer to the fire, careful not to ignite the blanket.

"It's our fault," Connor whispered.

"I can' believe she left," Murphy breathed. He reached around to grab Connor's hand and put it over Sarah's chest, feeling her heartbeat. "I can' believe it."

They slid their entwined hands up and gently brushed their hands down Sarah's cold cheek. Their hands were horribly brown against her white skin.

"We are so not tellin' Ma about this," Connor said seriously.

"What about Ma?"

The twins jumped and pulled away, taking the blankets with them. Sarah, deep brown eyes open, shook with the cold and wrapped her frail arms around herself. The twins hurried back to her, cradling her in their arms and pulling the blankets tight around them into a cocoon.

"What the fuck were ya doin'? Connor hissed. "Why would ya even _think_ about goin' out in a storm like that?"

"Needed fresh air," Sarah said, her voice barely a whisper. Whether from the cold or her silence, the boys didn't know.

"Not good enough, leprechaun," Murphy scolded.

"Alright then, fine," Sarah sat up straight and fire blazed in her eyes. "You wanna know why the fuck I left? Because you two wouldn' leave me alone! I always had Connor trailin' me wherever I went, Murphy would go and pick fights with me when all I wanted was ta help him out. Ya really think I was gonna stay?!" Her voice reached a shout.

"I – I – uh…" Connor stuttered.

"I know," Sarah brooded.

"We didn' mean it," Murphy said. "The move was hard on all of us. After Rocco… I mean…"

"Just stop," Sarah said, curling into the blankets. "Stop talkin'. Please."

"No way," Connor tightened his arms around her. "Not talkin' is what started this whole mess anyway."

"Listen, Sar," Murphy said, "we love ya. And ya know we do. Yer our little sister. There is nothin' we wouldn' do fer ya."

"And like I said; piss poor job ya did."

"We're all hurtin' here," Connor said. "All of us are recuperatin' and shit. No reason fer us ta take it out on each other."

"That's been workin' so well."

"Just tell us what's wrong."

"Same thin' that's botherin' ya," Sarah shrugged. "Boston is hauntin' me. I dream about it at night sometimes. The mafia and Rocco and gettin' out of the country. Sometimes I wake up and I'm cryin' or screamin'. But ya never knew."

"It's hittin' ya hard, isn't it?"

"It's hurtin' ya too! Let's face it… Rocco's death is on our hands."

"He wouldn't want ya to beat yerself up over it."

"Nor you."

"Just promise us ya won' leave us again. Murphy and I fucked up, we get it. We all did somethin' wrong here. The only thin' we can do is move on, together. It's been three years, leprechaun. Let's move on."

"Just don' leave us again," Murphy added.

"Don' give me a reason ta."

Da came in a moment later, arms filled with wood. He raised an eyebrow and the three laughed, huddled closer to the fire, skin against skin, the storm howling away outside.

Age 34:

Sarah, seriously upset at being in her thirties, took her brothers out to the tiny town nearby to get slobbering drunk. They could've easily gotten drunk at home, but the twins knew that Sarah loved to be at a party. She loved the singing and the dancing and the brawling too much to settle for a quiet night of drinking at home.

Except this time, Da came along as well.

"Just ta keep an eye on things," he said.

"Just be careful," Murphy warned him. "Sarah gets flirty and fighty when drunk. Don' want that ta sneak up on ya."

"I think I can handle it."

Da was, unfortunately, wrong. Even though Sarah hadn't properly taken care of herself in close to seven years, she was still beautiful and her voice was pitch perfect as always.

She was in the middle of the bar, men and women surrounding her, dancing the night away. She had a beer in her hand and was dancing in such a way that Connor felt dirty watching her. He and Murphy moved to a secluded corner, keeping a careful eye on Sarah. Da came up to them, nursing a bottle of whiskey, and collapsed into a chair.

"She always like this?" he asked.

"She's gotten better actually," Murphy observed. "She's usually got some fella in the alley by this time."

"Usually?!" Da looked shocked.

"Trust us, we tried to get her out of it, but she won' let us."

"She's gonna get a reputation!" Da exclaimed.

"Yeah, we know."

Sarah walked over just then, stumbling only slightly. She was grinning widely and still had her beer in hand.

"Hello," she said.

"Hey, leprechaun," Connor smirked. "Care to sit with us for a bit?"

"Sure," Sarah's grin grew wider and she sat next to Da.

"Ya look like yer havin' fun," Da mentioned casually.

Sarah's grin fell off her face and she turned to glare at Da. The twins hurriedly ducked into their glasses, waiting for the bombshell.

"So ya think so too?" she bit out. "Ya think I'm gonna get a reputation, don't ya?" Just because I'm out havin' a good time. If it was Connor or Murph you'd be praisin' them, congratulatin' them fer landin' some broad, but not me. Is that it? Just because I'm a girl, I can' go land some hot man for the night."

"That's not what I'm sayin'," Da tried.

"I think I'm done here. See ya at home," Sarah dropped her beer and left.

"She's got a bit of a temper," Murphy explained. "Never liked gettin' special attention because she was a woman."

"She's gotten laid more times than the both of us combined," Connor added. "She wants ta prove that she's as tough as any man."

"Is she?"

"You bet your ass she is," Murphy grinned. "Conn and I wouldn' be here without her. She saved our lives a couple o' times."

"And we saved hers," Connor countered. "She may be our little sister, but she's a fucking firework."

Age 36:

They'd been in prison for a whole year now. Despite the many pleads of official looking men, Sarah refused to go to a Women's Correctional Facility. She said she belonged with her brothers and nothing short of God coming from heaven was going to change her mind.

Though many of those official looking men stopped coming around after Sarah got into a brawl during lunchtime with four other men, leaving her with a black eye and bloodied lip, and landing the four men into the infirmary. It didn't really matter since as soon as those men were out of the infirmary, Connor and Murphy beat them near to death, landing them a whole month in solitary confinement.

The reputation of them grew fast among the inmates and the message was clear: don't mess with MacManus siblings. Connor and Sarah shared a cell and Murphy was across the hall, but they did everything together. Lunch, bathroom, outside time, they were always together. The men learned that putting the moves on Sarah meant not just getting her wrath, but the wrath of her brothers as well.

Once a week they attended therapy sessions. It didn't help explain why these three chose to go on their killing spree, but it got them a few friendly faces among the inmates, a few allies during those lunchtime brawls that seemed to always take place when they showed up. And it got them talking to each other when things went wrong. Suddenly, the three of them were having deep conversations about their emotional wellbeing in their secluded corners of the yard.

Romeo was still in his isolated room. He'd made a full recovery, but was still too fragile to be let out among the rest of the prisoners. Sarah, Connor, and Murphy still visited him every single day. They mourned their father and Greenly, of course, and prayed every night for their souls in heaven. They prayed for Ma in Ireland and for Duffy, Dolly, and Eunice Bloom.

Then Connor woke up one morning, something fiery flowing hot through his body. He felt like a live wire, like lightning had struck his very heart. He sat up straight in his bed and looked out across the hall. Murphy was staring straight back at him.

Sarah blinked her eyes open and gave a nod to Connor before falling back asleep.

"Been quiet, hasn' it?" Connor asked the next day in the yard.

"Maybe we finally scared them all off," Sarah suggested, yawning. "Shit, I didn' sleep well at all last night. Something kept wakin' me up. Don' remember what though."

"Probably not important," Connor gave Murphy a clear look of _why the fuck doesn't she remember last night?_

"I think they're all waitin' for somethin'," Murphy said, pulling out three cigarettes, giving Connor a small glare.

"Somethin' like what?" Sarah asked, lighting her cigarette and taking a deep inhale of the smoke.

"I don' know, just somethin'," Murphy shrugged. "Can' ya feel it?"

"Yeah," Connor nodded. "I can feel somethin' fer certain."

"Stop with the fuckin' twin thing!" Sarah snapped. "Jesus Christ, it's never gonna end with you boys, is it?"

"Just feel it, leprechaun," Connor took her hands in his. "Feel. It. We know you can feel it. You can feel anything better than us. It's in yer heart, ya just gotta _feel_."

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes. Connor reached out and took Murphy's hand too. They could feel it. The power, the anticipation. The deep breath before the plunge. Something was going to happen, something soon. It was like being called back to Boston all over again. Sarah gasped and tightened her hold on Connor's hand, an electric current running from her to him and into Murphy.

"I can feel it," she whispered. "I – I mean… somethin' important is goin' ta happen."

"We will be ready for it," Connor said.

"Tonight," Murphy nodded.

Sarah opened her eyes and nodded.

The next morning the Saints of South Boston and their sidekick were nowhere to be found. There was no sign of forced entry or any sign of forced exit. One day the four of them were inside the Hoag. The next day, they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The twins came to the graveyard discreetly. Nothing out of the ordinary for them. The had sunglasses on and kept their heads bowed. In each of their hands was a bouquet of roses. They walked through the cemetery quickly and quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible. They passed each headstone without looking left or right. They knew where they were going.

It was a brisk fall day. The leaves were just beginning to change and the sun shone through them, making the whole area look warm with oranges and yellows. A sharp wind blew through the graveyard, rattling the trees.

They knelt down beside the a marble headstone, setting the flowers on the damp earth. They made the sign of the cross over the grave, and across their bodies.

"Romeo passed last night," Connor said first. "In his sleep. 'Twas very peaceful. Didn't even cry."

"Aye," Murphy agreed. "Said he missed you somethin' awful though."

"We all miss ya somethin' awful," Connor said. "Dolly and Duffy bought the flowers fer ya."

"Spent hours tryin' ta think of what kind you would like," Murphy gave a weak chuckle.

"They got there in the end."

They were silent for a moment.

"'Tis not the same without ya," Murphy bowed his head.

"Been five years though. Five years since ya left."

"Five years since the fuckin' cancer took ya away."

They both reached out and touched the gravestone, tracing the words carefully with their calloused fingers.

"We wish we could be as strong as you," Connor said softly. "Because going on through life without ya hurts."

"Sometimes we turn around, expecting ya ta be there with some joke or another."

"Or we wait for some poor bastard ta try and flirt with ya."

They both gave watery chuckles.

"We still ain't smokin'. Never plan to, fer you."

"We stopped drinking awhile ago too. After Ma's liver gave out."

"We're still hunkering down in the middle of nowhere in Washington."

"If only because we promised ya we would."

The twins sat there in silence, holding onto each others hands. They stood up after a few minutes and bowed their heads. They spoke softly, trying not to let their voices break or let the tears muffle their words.

"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. _In nomine patri et filli et spiritus sancti_."

They took a deep breath and stood closer to each other.

"Goodbye, little leprechaun."

Arms around each other, the two MacManus twins left the graveyard. In the dim light, the words on the headstone could still be read, etched into the marble five years ago.

_Here lies Sarah MacManus. Loving sister and faithful daughter. 1975-2012_

* * *

_Sorry it's kind of short. I just wanted to post what I imagined the end of her life would be._


	3. What Sarah Said

_This was heavily (entirely) inspired by What Sarah Said, a song by Death Cab for Cutie. I highly suggest listening to the song while reading this. It's a deeper look into what the twins went through while Sarah was fighting her lung cancer._

* * *

Murphy paced the lobby in the hospital. It had been hours, and still there was no word. Connor was in one of the stiff chairs, unmoving except his shoulders as he took deep breaths. Murphy itched to take a cigarette. His fingers twitched, wishing for the flick of a lighter, the feel of the cigarette paper. He licked his lips and made his way to the window, looking down at the big city.

They were in Seattle. It was as far from Boston as they could be. They didn't really live in Seattle, but it was the closest hospital. So here they were, waiting. It was nearly three in the morning and down there were hundreds of people going about their lives without any remorse. They didn't know what was happening, nor did they care. Murphy hated them for it. He wanted to be there, to not have a care, to not be trapped in this hospital.

"You know what I realized?" Connor said, coming up next to his twin.

"What?" Murphy asked, leaning against the cold glass.

"That every plan we've ever made, every moment in our lives, was all a tiny prayer to Father Time," Connor said. "All we've been doin' is askin' for a bit more time."

"Do ya think he stopped listenin'?" Murphy asked.

"I think we ran outta time," Connor replied.

Murphy couldn't say anything to counter that. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe they did run out of time. All they've been doing was waiting (hoping, praying) that something would work. Maybe the therapy was working, or the radiation, or anything.

"Romeo should be on his way," Connor said. "I… I let him know when she moved."

Murphy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He turned around and looked over the hospital lobby. He should be used to it by now. He and Connor have been living at the hospital for almost three months now. They knew all the staff members by name, knew the closest restaurants, and knew which lobby chairs were the most comfortable.

But they weren't in their normal lobby anymore.

Last night, the cancer fought back and she had to be rushed to the ICU. There were doctors and nurses running and screaming, shouting out facts and figures and trying to fix her.

Connor and Murphy hadn't left the ICU since then.

"I hate it here," Murphy said, walking the familiar steps to her room. "It smells like piss and that stupid fuckin' cleaner."

"I hate it here too," Connor put his hand on Murphy's shoulder. "It's too sterile."

They walked to her room. They weren't allowed in, the cancer was still fighting hard and the doctors were trying their best to keep her alive; to keep her breathing. Murphy reached out and touched the window. It was frigid.

"It's just…" Murphy started. He choked on tears and tried again. "It's not fair, Conn. She can't breathe any more. She… she just can't. Her little lungs can't do it. And what are we doin'? Just breathin', again and again. Why do we have so many breaths to take while hers are numbered? It's not fuckin' fair!"

Connor didn't say anything, and Murphy was grateful for that. He grabbed his twin's arm and stared at the tiny monitor in her room. Murphy reasoned with himself, that as long as he stared at the tiny LCD screen, as long as he watched the little green line blip with each beat of her heart, then he could convince himself that everything was going to be fine.

He could convince himself that his little sister wasn't dying in there.

Murphy's hand tightened on Connor's arm. They were all they had right now. Sure, Romeo was around and he felt her sickness just as acutely as they did. Yes, the Boston police force sent their condolences and their love. They just didn't _know_. Not like the twins knew. They had raised this woman. They grew up with her. They had celebrated her triumphs and wallowed in her failures. They saved each other's lives and protected each other. They grieved their friends and father together. For years, it has always been the three of them against the world. Murphy wasn't sure if they could be just two. He didn't want to go from MacManus siblings to the MacManus twins, the MacManus brothers. He didn't want to lose her.

"She's gotta fight it," Connor said, his voice tight. "She… she can do it. If anyone could fight it, it's her."

Murphy nodded. He just needed to believe, to have faith. He had watched his little sister fight drunken men all night long. He had watched her shoot evil men without batting an eyelash. He had been on the receiving end of her brutality, when he and Connor pushed too far.

She was their little sister, but Murphy didn't fool himself into believing she was weak.

He stared at the monitor and felt his heart drop to his knees.

"Fuck, Conn," Murphy breathed out. "Her heartbeat."

Connor pushed himself next to the window while Murphy tried to call some feeling in his hollow chest. The tiny heartbeat he'd been watching, the little green blip, was falling. If it fell much further, she wouldn't have a heartbeat.

"Murph," Connor gasped, grabbing his twin tight. "She… she's going."

Soon enough, an alarm went off and her doctor rushed in, followed by four nurses. Murphy knew he needed to leave. Somewhere in his foggy mind, he knew that he couldn't be in the way for this, that he and Connor needed to go back into that godforsaken lobby and wait it out, but he couldn't move. His muscles were frozen in front of the window, staring at the wispy body of his baby sister as her lungs failed her.

His brother said something, but Murphy didn't register it. He simply let Connor's warm hand lead him back to the lobby. Each step felt like a mile and shook his entire body. He felt that walking away was a sign of giving up. Murphy pushed down every instinct telling him to turn and hold her hand. He needed to wait.

Connor pushed him into a chair and stuffed a year-old magazine in his hands.

"Read," Connor ordered. "I'll get you somethin' ta drink."

And so he left Murphy completely alone. He threw the magazine back on the table and watched as Connor turned the corner to the vending machines. Murphy lied about why he hated it here. Yeah, it smelt like piss and that 409 cleaner, and yeah it was too sterile, but those weren't the real reasons he hated it here.

The hospital lobbies were the places where only goodbyes were said; the only thing that Murphy never wanted to say to his sister. He hated goodbyes. He hated the finality of it. He had said goodbye to so many loved ones. Rocco, Greenly, Da…

Murphy didn't want to say goodbye to his little sister too.

Connor came back minutes later, empty-handed and face stained with tears. He sat down next to his brother.

"Nothing good," Connor's voice was thick as he lied.

"Re – remember that time back in Ireland," Murphy started, "when we realized that the sheep loved her singin'?" Murphy let out a watery chuckle. "Remember how she would sing and those fuckin' sheep followed her everywhere?"

"And Da didn't believe us," Connor smiled weakly, "so we dragged him out in the pourin' rain to prove it."

Murphy laughed again. "And then we all had pneumonia that week."

"No we didn't," Connor turned to face Murphy. "That's when we had the flu. Da got pneumonia when he was tryin' to prove that he could take care of the sheep on his own in the middle o' winter."

"Was it?" Murphy scratched his head. "That's funny. I don't… I don't remember that."

"And then a week later, we all went out drinking and she went home with that Seamus bloke and had to walk home in three feet of snow."

"I thought that was when she was still in school, and the teachers almost had her expelled for it."

Murphy stared at Connor in shock. Could they really not remember those moments? Here they were, waiting for news on whether their sister was alive or not, and they were arguing about memories. It wasn't fair, Murphy realized with bitterness. All those memories were stored away, but they weren't all stored properly. Their damn minds just couldn't remember things perfectly.

"I don't remember anymore," Connor slouched in his seat. "I can't remember what we did in Ireland. Fuck, I can barely remember what we did before Poppa Joe."

"Me neither," Murphy said. He glanced over at Connor. "What do you remember then?"

"I remember her hair," Connor said, closing his eyes and leaning back. "I remember how it crackled when she was angry. I remember that it was impossible, with four shades of brown and curls that just… were everywhere."

"I remember her eyes," Murphy said, closing his own eyes and letting the image float before him. "I remember that Ma said they were Da's eyes, that they looked like chocolate and they were so damn big."

"I remember when she told us she got laid," Connor said.

Murphy cracked a smile. "I remember all those fuckin' bar fights."

"I remember her singin'."

"I remember her shoutin' at us whenever we did somethin' stupid."

"Even if we don't remember everything, I wouldn't trade it for anythin' else."

Murphy nodded in agreement and opened his eyes. Despite it being so late (the time was pushing to 4 AM) there were people pacing the room. Sickness never did wait for a convenient time. He wanted to know what they were waiting for. Did they have a child fighting cancer? Or a loved one in a coma? Perhaps a drunken father who just escaped a car accident. What were they waiting for? Who were they praying for?

They didn't pay any mind to Murphy, so he let those thoughts fade away. Instead, he focused on his own prayers. Connor was right; every plan was a tiny prayer for more time. The plan to kill the Russians, the plan to get Yakavetta Junior, the plan to escape Boston, they were all plans to have more time.

Romeo walked in, strangely solemn as he sat next to the twins.

"How's she holding up?" he asked.

"They thought she was gonna make it," Murphy said.

"Until about ten minutes ago," Connor snapped. "The cancer is gettin' worse. The doc just went in."

"No news then?"

"Nothin'."

"She'll be fine," Romeo assured the brothers. "I know she will. She'll tough if out. She made it through prison for Christ's sake. She's got this."

A click of heels on the floor and everyone in the room looked up at the nurse. She was motherly, with dark hair and bright eyes, a clipboard in hand. Romeo patted Murphy and Connor's knees and leaned back.

"Could the MacManus brothers please come with me?" she said, scanning the room.

The twins stood up and walked to the nurse in unison. She put on her best face and gripped the clipboard tighter.

"She's asking for you," the nurse simply said.

Murphy's heart stopped and he reached for Connor.

"She's awake?" Connor asked, a shaking hand grasping Murphy's.

"Just for a bit," the nurse said. "You two go on ahead, but I'm afraid you-" she turned to Romeo "-will have to wait here. Family visitors only."

"That's fine," Romeo said. "I understand. You boys go, I'll call Eunice."

Murphy felt a rush of gratitude towards him. He and Connor ran through the hospital, ignoring the glares and heated whispers. Their sister was awake, she was asking for them. That could only mean one thing.

It meant she was alive. It meant she was going to make it.

Right?

She had to.

The twins burst through the door and saw their sister on the bed, IV still attached to her elbow and oxygen tank hissing in the corner. They sat down at her bedside and came as close as they could, looking at her feeble body.

"Hey there, leprechaun," Connor reached out and took her hand in his. "You look good."

"Great, even," Murphy added. "Almost healthy enough to come home."

She smiled at them and shook her head.

"Wh – what are you doin'?" Murphy looked down at her with worry. "Why are you shakin' yer head?"

With great effort, she began to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not makin' it," she wheezed. "The doc said the treatment isn't workin'. He said I'm only gettin' worse. It was either… die like this. Or wait a few days and die then."

"Ya can't talk like that!" Murphy exclaimed, his voice rising to a shout. "Ya can't just die on us!"

"Murphy, shut up!" Connor hissed. "Yer gonna get us kicked out."

"Boys, please," she begged them between coughs. "If I'm gonna go. I wanna go on my terms, when I'm ready."

"And what makes ya think that when yer ready is when we're ready?" Murphy demanded. "Because let me tell you, it's fuckin' not time fer you ta go!"

"Murphy!" Connor scolded, grabbing Murphy's arm.

"No!" Murphy pulled his arm free. "I don't wanna sit here and watch my – watch our little sister just leave! I don't want her to go!" he turned to face his sister, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. "You hear me, leprechaun? You can't go. Not now and certainly not like this! After everythin'? You really think you can just let this fuckin' cancer take you away?"

"Murphy!" Connor pulled on Murphy again.

"Because I can't!" Murphy stood up, pulling free once more. "I can't watch you just sit here and give up! I can't stand it! Three months we've been prayin' for a miracle. Seein' ya like this, losin' yer gorgeous hair and bein' sick all the time with all these tubes and wires and shit, seein' ya so helpless made me lose my mind! But I though it would be worth it because you were gonna be okay. I thought that, in the end, it would be worth it. All this money and time and all the tears were gonna be okay because we'd still have _you_."

"It's my time, Murph," she said gently. "Let me go."

Murphy fell down into his chair. He let Connor take his arm and push up next to him. He let everything wash over him as the tears kept falling. He stared at his hands; they were shaking. He didn't know what to do with himself. He's felt adrenaline rushes before, he's felt fear in his very gut, but this was different. This was Murphy unveiled, Murphy overexposed. He felt naked, no barriers between what he felt and what he showed.

"What are we gonna do without you?" he finally asked.

"Move on," she shrugged. "Stay hidden. Live normally."

"How can we go on without you?" Connor asked.

"You must," she reached forward and took both their hands in hers. "Promise me you'll be safe. Go get a borin' job and stay hidden and find a couple of broads and make a life. Can ya do that fer me?"

"Anything for you, leprechaun," Murphy said, lifting his head.

"Remember what I told you," she gasped for breath, "when they first diagnosed me?"

"Yeah, yeah, we remember."

"Wh – what did I say?"

She was struggling for breath now. Murphy knew that they had seconds before she left for good.

"You said that 'love is watching someone die'."

"So…" she smiled at them both. "Who's gonna watch you die?"

Feebly, she squeezed their hands one final time. Her eyes slid shut and her heart monitor line flattened. More tears fell down Murphy's face as a sob ripped through his throat. Connor, sobbing next to him, pulled him close. They held each other tight, Murphy burying his face into his brother's shoulder, letting all the emotions, all that broken bitterness, sweep over him.

The nurse gently led them from the room, but Murphy didn't remember moving. Still holding onto his twin, his singular point of sanity, they came back into the wretched lobby. Romeo came up to them, about to speak, but stopped when he caught sight of their faces.

"She… didn't make it?" he guessed.

Connor shook his head and Romeo hiccupped.

"Wh – What did she say?" Romeo asked, a tiny sob breaking through.

Murphy thought for a moment. She said a lot of things, really. There were so many things she said in her life, so many moments she made by her words. How could anyone ever narrow it down to one thing that she said?

"Love is watching someone die."

That's what Sarah said.

* * *

_I have been asked if I'm planning on writing more, and I do have somewhat of an announcement._

_I have a story about Sarah and the twins that takes place during the movies, both of them, and goes more in depth between the first and second movies. It's not quite finished yet, I've got a few more things to work out, but that will come eventually._

_I won't be posting it on addition to this story, it will be it's own story, and hopefully will be published by Christmas. So keep a look out, and let me know if you'd be willing to read more about Sarah._


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